


i save you back

by sugdensquad



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugdensquad/pseuds/sugdensquad
Summary: What do two lost and fragile boys do when they're hurting?
  They find each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Спасаю тебя в ответ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942638) by [ElasticLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticLove/pseuds/ElasticLove)



> My first fic for the SKAM fandom and based off of a prompt sent to me by the lovely Maddie <3 Hope you all enjoy!

Even’s warm breath unfurls like steam across Isak’s shoulder, stark white against the midnight air. They’ve lost all track of time, seconds bleeding into minutes without either of them making a move to shift apart. It’s been too long since they’ve held each other like this, a lifetime it seems now.

_Another universe._

There is the sound of a car somewhere in the distance, the engine a heavy thrum against the silence, but it’s as though they have slipped beneath water, the whole world faded, dulled. The only thing in focus is each other’s embrace, the warmth enveloping them as they sway a little. Isak’s nose, scarlet from the cold, is pressed tightly into Even’s neck, having somehow managed to dig its way beneath the umpteen layers of clothing which Even is bundled up in. He nuzzles a little more, inching closer still, and Even shifts his arms to pull him in tighter.

Nothing is enough. Not even if they were skin to skin would they be as close as Even wanted them to be. He needs the pressure of Isak’s body against his own, the bruising touch of fingers digging into his back, clutching out of desperation and reassurance. He needs to know this is real. That this isn’t just a scene he’s made up in his head to keep the fear at bay.

_You are not alone._

He wants to deny it, wants to reel from it. But Isak is wrapped around him and he can’t deny this. Isak is here, he’s _here_. He came, even though Even had no expectations, not even the cruelty of hope to cling onto. He came, and he stayed. He’s still here and Even’s desperately trying to ignore the sickening thud of his heart which sounds like a countdown in his head.

_Somewhere, in a parallel universe, there is an Even who doesn’t feel like this. Who doesn’t feel like I feel. Somewhere there is an Even who is truly, completely happy._

The thought alone snakes like a chord around his throat and he presses his cheek against the softness of Isak’s curls, breathes him in as though his lungs have never known air. When they held each other before, Even always felt as though he were the strong one, his arms encircling Isak so he could curl up, small and pliant against his side. But now he can feel a hand at the back of his head, his shoulders weighed down by Isak’s arms… and he has never known safety like it.

“I was at church,” Isak murmurs against his neck, pulls away slightly but only enough so he can look Even in the eye. “That’s where I was… when I got your text.”

The guilt is corrosive and he attempts to extricate himself from Isak’s arms. Isak keeps a loose hold on him, easy enough to pull free from, but there’s something in the way he looks at Even that makes him want to stay.

“You didn’t need to come,” he replies, his voice hoarse. He hasn’t spoken much recently, could never seem to find the words. He’s not sure he has them now either.

Isak’s fingers tentatively brush across his forehead, tucking a strand of hair back under his hat. Even leans forward, can’t help himself, drawn to that gentle touch like the tide stretching endlessly out towards the moon.

“You said you loved me,” Isak whispers and the words shiver on his tongue. He licks his lips, eyes wide and questioning and hopeful. He looks as Isak always looks, pure and good and untainted. He looks like a boy Even could so easily love if loving was easy.

Even lets out a breath through his nose, feels the pressure in his chest lessen a little, and rubs his thumb against Isak’s side.

“I did,” he answers and his stare doesn’t waver now. He might not have the words, but they’ve never needed that. Isak understands, he always has. Even doesn’t need to say it out loud.

Something passes across Isak’s face, fleeting and subtle, but Even catches it all the same. A flicker of relief and then his jaw sets hard. Even thinks for a moment that it might be anger, but Isak’s eyes are too soft for that, too open. He's not angry, he's determined.

“Then I had to come,” he says, brings a hand back up to settle at Even’s neck, fingertips fluttering at the edge of his jaw. The ghost of a touch Even is desperate to chase. He has always been chasing Isak from the moment they first met: with looks, with smiles, with words and thoughts and actions. He chases Isak in his dreams as well, but there he’s always just one beat too slow, a little out of sync with the rest of the world. Now, though, it almost seems like time has stopped just for them.

He doesn’t need to keep running anymore. He can rest for a little while.

They keep swaying together, Even’s nose tracing across Isak’s hairline, his mouth parted slightly. He wants to thank him, to say anything at all, but he’s not sure how anymore. Nothing sounds right inside his head, like the dialogue and the scene aren’t matching up.

He just wants Isak to know. That’s all he wants.

“Let’s sit, yeah? Let’s sit for a while,” Isak suggests and he’s quieter now, even gentler than before. Even feels like porcelain and he knows how desperate Isak is not to break him.

They gravitate over towards the bench, sit down on the seat rather than on the wall behind as they had done before. He can remember still the curiosity which had sparked in his chest that night, sitting next to the boy with golden curls, teasing him and laughing like there was nothing simpler. Isak had been a chance Even wasn’t sure he’d be able to take. But he had. He’d stepped off the ledge and he’d finally understood why so many people said that falling felt like flying.

Their shoulders bump as they shift closer. Isak’s hands are pressed tightly between his legs and Even’s are pushed into his coat pockets. He wants to tangle their fingers together but he’s not sure if he should, if it would change anything.

_You are not alone._

But for how long? That’s what Even wants to know.

“Why did you come here? To the school?” Isak asks suddenly, a crease appearing between his brows as he looks up at Even with those eyes which are far too innocent for this world.

Even thinks back to earlier that evening, when his parents had been watching him intently as they always did when he had an episode. They had asked him, of course. Why were you in a hotel? Who were you with? Where was Sonja? He had stayed mostly in his room, told himself that keeping quiet would just be easier right now than explaining, but eventually staring at the same four walls had started to feel like a prison sentence.

So he’d gone out, told his mum and dad that he just needed to go for a short walk, that he had his phone with him. And then he’d wound up at the school, the place where he’d hoped to have a second chance, a new start. The place he’d made friends at, the place he’d met Isak.

It was like in a film, the cyclical nature of stories – beginnings and endings rotating, spiralling, connecting in impossible ways. It would have been fitting, really, if he had started and ended right here…

“I needed some space,” he explains, veering away from his thoughts, “just to think on my own for a bit. I came here and… I started remembering things, like when we first met. It felt like you were closer to me.”

Isak watches him, taking everything in as if Even is a Rubik’s cube and all the colours are jumbled up. He smiles though at the mention of their first meeting, rolls his eyes a little even as his cheeks flush.

“Vilde’s stupid group,” he mutters, breathes a laugh into the cold, December air. Even ducks his head.

“I didn’t think it was stupid.” It hangs, suspended, between them and Even wonders if the meaning might have been obscured, lost in translation. But when he braves another look, Isak is regarding him with an expression which borders the happiness and melancholy borne from reminiscing.

“No,” he replies, and Even lets his shoulders drop, the tension dissipating from his weary muscles. He shouldn’t have worried. Isak always understands him. Still, not everything he wants to say can be thought alone, or hidden behind a simpler message. Sometimes it’s easier just to be blunt.

“I’m sorry. I know I scared you.”

He hears, rather than sees, Isak shift a little on the bench, his own gaze now fixated on the laces of his boots. One is still tightly knotted but the other has come a little loose.

“I was worried,” Isak murmurs and he shifts again, his knee knocking against Even’s. The physical touch brings him round and he twists so his shoulder is leaning against the wooden back, his head tilted so he can look up at Isak.

“I know.”

Even watches him closely, the nervous twitch of his mouth before his gaze drops, bouncing from his hands that are curled up small on his lap to the infinite gap between them that is barely a few inches wide.

“You said… in your text, you said you didn’t want to lose me,” Isak manages, but Even can hear he’s struggling a little. He wants to make it better but his throat is barely managing to let him swallow, far less speak. “You know you could have told me, right? I would have understood.”

_I’ve decided my life will be better without having mentally ill people around me._

The words are still there, their fingernails digging into him, leaving deep, red crescents on his skin. It still feels like a blow to his gut, a sharp punch under his ribs which has him wanting to double over, breathe out shakily through his mouth. He had known then and there that he wouldn’t tell the truth. If Isak’s life was truly better without having mentally ill people around him, then Even would just have to pretend he wasn’t mentally ill.

It was a good plan… up until it wasn’t.

“I thought about it,” he admits, and even that seems too great a truth to speak aloud. It makes him shiver involuntarily. “But there was so much going on and I knew you weren’t speaking to your mum so… I just thought it might be easier if you didn’t know.”

He feels utterly exposed and Isak is staring at him, the crease back again, and then shock flashes before his eyes and they widen to two, glassy circles. His mouth falls open, the realisation dawning, and he grips the edge of the bench as if to steady himself.

“Shit… What I said-”

“It’s okay,” Even cuts him off immediately, knowing that Isak is remembering it all.

“No! No, it’s not!” Isak exclaims, shaking his head furiously. “Shit, I didn’t even think… Even, I’m so sorry.” He looks at him and Even can see the tears forming so he grabs his arm and pulls him forwards. Their chests thud hollowly and then they’re sinking into each other’s warmth again, grappling with clothes and limbs so as to fit seamlessly, the join unnoticeable to the naked eye.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise,” Even whispers in his ear, kisses the soft, pink lobe with just the barest brush of his lips. Isak’s breath shudders out of him in a rush, his fingers caught up in a fistful of Even’s coat, his face buried into Even’s shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.” He sounds young, younger than Even has ever heard him, and his chest presses inwards again, the skin pulled so taut that he is sure it must be transparent now, his bloodied heart visible for the world, and Isak, to see.

“Okay,” he replies, tangling his fingers into the thick, soft curls at the nape of Isak's neck. He’s missed the feel of it beneath his hands, used to close his eyes and imagine row after row of wheat stalks, honey gold and rippling in the breeze just like Isak’s hair.

“Even, I swear I didn’t mean it,” Isak pleads, untangles himself so he can look up, his lashes fluttering to bat back the tears. “I don’t think like that, not now. I was just… my head was messed up and mum… I just didn’t know how to deal with her, but… it’s different now.”

He looks so frightened and Even rests his hand against Isak’s cheek, thumb brushing gently along the sharp slope of his cheekbone. He places a kiss to his temple, hears Isak sigh beneath his touch, and knows that the waters have been calmed again. Another storm tamed, another battle won.

“I told her… about being… _gay_ ,” Isak continues, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, sniffing hard. Even watches him intently, wondering what he is about to say next. “She was fine with it, so was dad. They were both totally cool about the whole thing.”

His spine, rigid a second ago, now softens and Even leans back, nodding slowly. “Good.”

“That’s why I was at the church. They wanted me to come along, first time we’ve done something as the three of us.”

Now it’s Even’s turn to panic, his head already shaking as he starts to say: “You should go back-”

“No,” Isak interrupts him, a hand placed lightly over his. “We’ll do something another time, it’s no big deal. I wanted to be here.”

_You are not alone._

It’s a wave crashing onto the shore before ebbing away, only to return again when he least expects it. He twists his hand round, palm upwards, and the corners of his mouth quirk when Isak curls his fingers into the gaps between his own. He didn’t think he would ever have this again and he’s not sure what to think or feel now that the possibility is there. He’s not sure he’ll cope if Isak decides to leave.

“Can I ask how you are?”

It’s almost enough for him to pull away and perhaps Isak senses that because he squeezes his hand a little tighter, an added reassurance that he’s safe. Even presses down on the fear, tamps it out knowing the embers will glow hot and fierce again before long.

“Better than when you last saw me,” he answers and it’s all he can give at the moment. He hopes it’s enough.

Isak nods, doesn’t seem disappointed. Even still feels the need to say something else, something _more_.

“I’m sorry I just… ran off… at the hotel. I know you went out looking for me.” He doesn’t remember everything from that night. It’s a kaleidoscope of memories, fragmented and in the wrong order, but he knows most of it, and anything he can’t recall was helpfully told to him.

“Sonja?” Isak guesses, and Even nods, his jaw setting hard. He can’t help it, the reaction is almost instinctual. He hates Isak saying her name, hates the idea that they ever crossed paths. He had worked so hard to avoid it, and in the end his worst fear had come true.

“Yeah. She came to see me, told me what happened,” he answers bleakly but doesn’t dwell too long on the memory. She had been nice, comforting. She’d ran her fingers through his hair, told him not to worry, that she’d taken care of everything. He’d asked her what that meant and when she told him… He imagined it was how Juliet felt when she awoke to find Romeo dead beside her. As if all hope, however fleeting, was now gone forever.

“Right.”

Even catches the inflection in Isak’s tone and frowns. “She said she took out some of her anger on you. Is that right?”

“She was… It’s fine, it’s done now,” Isak replies, but his shrug is too sharp, his hands clasping and unclasping on his lap.

“She shouldn’t have done that, but she’s sorry. She knows it wasn’t your fault,” he says, hoping it will soothe whatever wound she had inflicted upon him. But Isak’s expression doesn’t alter, his shoulders hunched forwards, curling in on himself.

“You know none of that was your fault, right?” Even asks and his pulse is thick at the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow. When Isak looks up, he stops breathing altogether.

“I should have realised-”

“No, Isak.” Even grabs for his hands, crushes them between his own, his eyes desperate. “Trust me, you couldn’t have known, not unless you’ve seen it before. And even then… It’s not easy to handle, even if you know what to look for.”

He keeps a tight hold even as Isak’s shoulders drop again, his gaze lifting a fraction to meet Even’s own. They stare and stare, lost in this unspoken connection which they managed to create before they even knew each other. Eventually, Isak tangles their fingers back together, the cold having nipped the skin raw at the knuckles.

“Did Sonja help you?” he asks, his gaze skittering away, nervous. “You know, when you two were still…”

“She tried. I think she thought that if she kept everything organised then…,” Even trails off, sighs. “I don’t know. She needed to control things, control me. And I thought that’s what I needed too, thought that was the safest way.”

Isak’s thumb skates along the side of Even’s wrist, warm and tentative. “And now?”

“Now… I don’t have an answer to that,” he says, and it’s as honest as he knows how to be. “I don’t want to go back to living like that. Everything in its separate box.”

Isak frowns at that, his brows knitted together, before he shifts closer on the bench, the toes of their boots just touching. “How do you want to live, then?” he enquires, and he says it softly as if he’s scared of the answer. As if he’s afraid that whatever answer Even gives, it won’t include him. Even leans forwards, rubs the tip of his nose along the length of Isak’s.

“As myself,” he says, and it makes them both smile, an infectious thing which has Even’s chest aching a little.

“Only you can feel what you feel,” Isak whispers, and it’s the echo of another time, another universe, when Even was free and _Gabrielle_ was playing on the radio and Isak, the boy with the skinny arms and the gaps between his teeth, was all _his_.

“That’s when I knew.” He doesn’t say it consciously; the words just slip from between his lips without him having fully formed them in his mind.

Isak’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Hm?”

He thinks about playing it down, brushing it away with a shrug and a laugh, pushing the conversation onwards. But he feels brave now, sat in the darkness with Isak’s hand in his, the two of them so close that they can share each other’s breath.

“About you,” he explains, and he’s smiling again. He’s missed smiling like this, like it would hurt not to. “When you said that, I knew I was totally lost. Totally in love.”

There is a beat, a moment which spans infinity, when all that lies between them is silence, a dark and endless vacuum threatening to swallow them both whole. But then Isak’s hand is at his neck, dragging him forwards, and when their mouths press together he lets out a much-needed breath. It's not heated like some of the others they've shared, but there is weight to it, an intensity which leaves Even faint. Isak is firmer now than before, more sure of himself, of _them_ , and Even is comforted instantly by that. He gives back as good as he gets, opens them both up and lets his tongue find Isak’s, the warmth and wetness making him shiver. Isak makes a soft whine at the back of his throat, pleading almost, and Even responds automatically, pulls him in by the waist, presses them together. They’re both trembling, though whether because they’ve been outside for so long or because of sheer relief he can’t possibly say. All he knows is that when they pull back, he feels the absence keenly.

“You can still go, if you want. I won’t hold it against you.” He’s not sure why he says it but the look of horror on Isak’s face is enough to reassure him that he was right to hope.

“What do you mean?”

He ducks his head a little, feels the cold, metal zipper against his chin. “It’s not like I’m going to get better from this,” he explains softly, knowing that Isak is still so young and so terrifyingly unprepared. He knows this needs to be said, even if it hurts to lay himself bare like this. “It’s a part of me, Isak, and it always will be.”

“I know.” There’s no hesitation, that’s what surprises Even the most. He assumed Isak would need a little time to consider those words, to register their meaning, but Isak is looking at him as if he has known it all along.

“I just want you to be sure,” he tries again, just to be on the safe side. “You still have a way out.”

When Isak smiles, it’s like seeing a sunrise after years of waking up in darkness. Even can almost feel the warmth of it radiating across his skin.

“But why would I want that?” he asks, squeezing Even’s hand before tugging him closer. Even goes, willingly now, and finds his head resting on Isak’s shoulder, his whole body curled up tightly in the space Isak has made for him. And he knows, of course he knows, that this isn’t it over. There will be more conversations like this one, perhaps more painful and more difficult than he has had to endure before, but he also knows that Isak is here. He’s here, he’s staying, and Even’s not sure he cares all that much about anything else.

“What do you think all those other Isaks and Evens are doing right now in their parallel universes?” he asks, slipping his arm beneath Isak’s jacket so he can wrap it around his waist.

He feels Isak sigh, slow and easy, as he contemplates the question, before he presses the softest of kisses against Even’s forehead. “I think… they’re probably wishing they were sat on a bench just like this one, freezing cold… together. Just like us.”

And Even, who has always chased the dream of an alternate version of himself, an alternate version of his life, smiles to himself and settles fully against Isak’s shoulder.

“I think you might be right," he says, and he means it.


End file.
